Rift in the Sky (30 page)

And she'd worried he was leaving.

A physical threat. To him. To those who worked with him. Something that could disrupt the Strangers' seemingly invincible technology. “Do they threaten us?”

“I'll take you home,” he said as if he hadn't heard. “You get everyone inside the Cloisters. Stay there until I come. Promise me.”

Haxel would have her blade against the softness of his throat by now, demanding answers. Not that it would work, Aryl knew. No threat would move Marcus Bowman to say anything he didn't want to say.

And she'd never allow it.

“We'll go with you.” Two of the Triad sites were between here and Sona. He wasn't a fool.

Not a fool; not happy either. Marcus frowned. “No.”

“You need to check on your people. You've already wasted time coming for us.”

Behind her, Naryn sighed, but Aryl could feel her
agreement.
Naryn might not care about Marcus, but she knew they had to learn about this mysterious threat. Enris? She sensed his presence close to her thoughts, careful, wary.

“Bad idea!” Marcus lurched around in his seat. “Enris. Tell her.”

“I like it.” Her Chosen leaned back and put his massive arms behind his head in a show of ease. “The sooner we're home, the sooner Haxel puts me to work.”

“I'd—” Naryn bent double, her hands holding her abdomen. “Leave me be!” she gasped.

She didn't protest to them.

Anaj!
Aryl sought the other through the M'hir.
Stop!

Interesting.
The other's mind was a solid spot of light, their connection locked instantly. Trained Power; practiced control.
So this is your version of the Dark. You look like flame, Child of Power.

No.
Aryl risked the other's reaction and shared a quick image of the aircar and Marcus.
Not-Om'ray, but a friend.

Interesting,
Anaj repeated.
What you wish to reveal and what you think you can hide about our new companion, this Human.

Aryl checked her shields.

Don't worry. I'm in no position to argue.
A ripple through the M'hir; it might have been laughter. It might have been despair.
I'll be patient as long as I'm able.

She knew what Anaj meant.
If I can help—

Aryl blinked herself free of the M'hir to the sound of the Human's voice, loud and vehement. “—go home. This is Trade Pact problem. Triad problem. Not Om'ray. Not yours! What of babies?”

What would he think of the acerbic old Adept currently living inside Naryn? She was
real
to Om'ray, but would she be to the Human?

Some things, Aryl reminded herself, Marcus didn't need to know.

One he did. “If you take us to Sona, we won't get out of this machine. Unless you think you can force us out? And our babies?”

Enris made a choking noise.

“Aryl,” the Human pleaded. “Not safe!”

Her grin faded. “Did you think we were friends only when it was?”

Marcus stared desperately at the screens. A muscle jumped along his jaw. She waited.

“Promise to stay in aircar, no matter what,” he said finally, not looking at her. “ 'Port away if I say so. Promise.”

She'd do no such thing.

When she didn't answer, a glance assessed her expression, then the Human sighed. He dug into a pocket, brought out a small disk she'd seen it before, the one that held images of his family. He handed it to her. “Keep this safe for me. Promise that?”

As a trick, it wasn't up to his usual standard. Aryl took the image disk and put it in a pocket. “What I promise is to give it back when we're all safe.”

“Stubborn,” he commented, but almost smiled.

Behind them, Enris chuckled.

The Lake of Fire took its name from strange clouds, like curls of smoke, that often rose from its still surface. Aryl pressed her nose to the now-transparent side of the aircar but could see only one. She'd meant to ask Marcus if the Strangers knew what caused the smoke, if it was something to do with the structures beneath the surface.

Today wasn't the time for curiosity.

Marcus wouldn't talk to her, busy with the controls when he wasn't staring at the small screens as if their flow of color and symbol offered some final hope. She'd seen him afraid for his life, but this was different.

Odd. The solitary curl of smoke was taller and darker than those she remembered. “Marcus?”

He lifted his head and looked out. “Site One,” Marcus announced grimly, his face set in unfamiliar lines.

Meaning the smoke was from the Strangers' platform over the underwater ruins, where Marcus and his Triad had been working when she'd first met them. The aircar veered toward the nearer shore.

If the buildings were still on fire, why was he heading away? For their safety? “Don't worry about us,” Aryl said quickly. “We'll help. Go back!”

Marcus tapped the small screen. “No one to help,” he said. “No
lifesign
.”

Enris got to his feet, loomed between Marcus and Aryl. “Who did this?”

The Human looked up. “No proof who. Could be accident,
malfunction
. Artrul—her Triad.
Evacuationprotocol.
Means they go to Site Two. Damaged tower. Local coms down, that's all. Confusion.” A too-casual shrug. “See? Take you home now.”

He tried to get rid of them again. “Site Two,” she insisted. It lay a ridge beyond Grona.

“Not safe.”

Now the truth, or some of it. “What is?” Aryl said gently. “You waste time arguing, Marcus.”

At last, the hint of a smile in his eyes. “I should know better by now.” He slumped in his seat. “Stubborn Om'ray.” One finger pushed a button and the aircar shot forward, faster than Aryl had known it could go. “Sit.” This to Enris, who put his hand on the Human's shoulder and squeezed gently before returning to the bench.

Naryn closed her eyes and put her head back, hair fretting across her shoulders. This flight wasn't going to improve her opinion of Marcus Bowman or his kind.

Aryl checked her longknife.

For all the good it might do against what could bring fire down in the midst of a lake.

They flew over the canopy. Over Yena, her inner sense told her. Aryl kept her shields tight and felt the others do the same. Taisal could have reached through the M'hir, demanded an explanation; that her mother ignored their passing overhead was one less worry.

Eyes fixed to his screens, Marcus ignored the view. They were higher this time. Higher than wastryls flew or wings could rise on the M'hir. Higher and faster. Without her
inner
sense to give her perspective, she wouldn't have recognized the Sarc grove, or spotted the ring of old rastis that surrounded the Cloisters.

How high could they go, she wondered, before they reached the end of the sky?

Site Two was carved into the side of a mountain ridge. Though Aryl had only seen it in truenight, the Strangers had stuck glows everywhere, turning the darkness to day. Easy to remember the long sharp ledge where they landed their machines—she trusted Marcus was capable of landing this one there—then the short walk up a slope to a second, higher ledge where the Strangers had set up camp using the same plain white constructions as at Sona. Why? Because here they'd dug into the mountain itself. They'd freed a series of massive structures, exposing them once more to light and air. She'd had the barest glimpse at the time, busy planning to escape with Enris, but the buildings had been like those under the Lake of Fire, smooth curves and unfamiliar angles. Perfect, undamaged. Not like the ruins of Sona.

The Hoveny Concentrix.

The Strangers had made a discovery. Something important enough to draw Marcus and his Triad—and her—here.

“Marcus, what did they find? At Site Two.”

He gave her a bemused look, as if this was the last thing he'd expected. For a moment she thought he'd evade the question, as he most often did when it concerned his work, then he replied, “A door.”

Doors, in her experience, were only useful under one condition. “A door you could open?”

“Could? I think so. But we're not ready yet.” He cupped his hands tightly together. “The inside has been sealed a very long time. Still intact. We want to know about the
internalenvironment
—the air—inside. Vital to detect any systems still
operational.
” He lifted his thumb to make a small opening. “Tyler's Triad made
controlledaccesspoint, lockdown
rest until ready. Send tiny vidbots to look for us. They'll finish the first level soon, then move to the next. Takes time.” His gloom lifted as he spoke. “Hoveny structures are almost always empty, as if the owners moved out and then locked the doors. Best finds so far have been what was missed. Objects left on a floor, perhaps dropped in a hurry. Artifacts. Tell us little alone. Have
nocontext.
What we really want to find are
workinginstallations.
Parts of building that couldn't be moved. Remarkable
preservation
inside. They might still work.”

Aryl thought of the tables filled with objects she'd seen being sorted. “You have artifacts at Sona.”

He grimaced. “Oud don't respect doors. Made big mess.”

Enris laughed.

The noise burst from the control panel. Lights flashed. Marcus bent over it, muttering in his own language. He did something to silence the sound, but the lights reflected on his pale skin, turning it red, then blue, then yellow. Red again. He stood to stare through the clear ceiling at the scattered clouds overhead, then dropped back into his seat. “Watch,” he ordered. “Tell me if you see anything approaching.”

“From above?” Naryn asked in disbelief. Aryl shared her reaction. What was the Human thinking?

“From anywhere.”

The aircar began to descend, quickly.

“Don't crash this time,” Aryl reminded the Human, her hands gripping the edge of the seat.

For some reason this made Marcus choke on a laugh of his own.

Down. Down. The lights played over them like biters hunting a spot to bite. Aryl did her best to ignore them, staring out as Marcus directed. Enris and Naryn did the same.

They had to be close to Site Two by now, Aryl thought. Looking down, she could see the slope of the mountain, littered with loose rock. Loose rock with an appetite. A patient, seldom rewarded appetite—not much wandered here.

“Something's behind us.” Enris.
What is it?
he asked her, sharing the image of a distant speck.

Marcus didn't look around. “Is it getting closer?”

“I can't tell.”

The aircar swung violently to one side and back again, like a branch pulled and released with a snap. Aryl clung to her seat, her eyes on Marcus.

Who now looked furious.

“What was that?”

“A suggestion.” Unhelpfully. “Don't talk now.”

A suggestion?
Enris sent.
What's going on?

Maybe he avoided a wastryl.
She'd seen a vidbot explode when attacked by the flying creatures.

Aryl glanced out the side and flinched. The mountainside roared by, too close, a blur of shadow and jagged edge.
We have to trust him.

Privately, through the M'hir, their link as solid as flesh touching.
No, we don't. We could leave, now.